Where Love is, There God is Also Page #4

"Where Love Is, There God Is Also" is a poignant short story by Leo Tolstoy that explores the theme of love as a divine force. The narrative follows a humble carpenter named Martin who grapples with feelings of isolation and despair. Throughout the story, he encounters a series of people in need, prompting reflections on compassion and the significance of kindness. Ultimately, Tolstoy illustrates that true understanding of God's presence comes through acts of love and selflessness, emphasizing the interconnectedness of humanity through the lens of spirituality. The tale serves as a reminder of the profound ways in which love can manifest in everyday life.

• Short story

								


"Let him go, granny, forgive him for Christ's sake!"

"I will forgive him in such a way that he will not forget until the new
bath brooms are ripe. I will take the rascal to the police station!"

Avdyéich began to beg the old woman:

"Let him go, granny, he will not do it again. Let him go, for Christ's
sake!"

The woman let go of him. The boy wanted to run, but Avdyéich held on to
him.

"Beg the grandmother's forgiveness," he said. "Don't do that again,--I
saw you take the apple."

The boy began to cry, and he asked her forgiveness.

"That's right. And now, take this apple!" Avdyéich took an apple from
the basket and gave it to the boy. "I will pay for it, granny," he said
to the old woman.

"You are spoiling these ragamuffins," said the old woman. "He ought to
be rewarded in such a way that he should remember it for a week."

"Oh, granny, granny!" said Avdyéich. "That is according to our ways, but
how is that according to God's ways? If he is to be whipped for an
apple, what ought to be done with us for our sins?"

The old woman grew silent.

And Avdyéich told the old woman the parable of the lord who forgave his
servant his whole large debt, after which the servant went and took his
fellow servant who was his debtor by the throat. The old woman listened
to him, and the boy stood and listened, too.

"God has commanded that we should forgive," said Avdyéich, "or else we,
too, shall not be forgiven. All are to be forgiven, but most of all an
unthinking person."

The old woman shook her head and sighed.

"That is so," said the old woman, "but they are very much spoiled
nowadays."

"Then we old people ought to teach them," said Avdyéich.

"That is what I say," said the old woman. "I myself had seven of
them,--but only one daughter is left now." And the old woman began to
tell where and how she was living with her daughter, and how many
grandchildren she had. "My strength is waning," she said, "but still I
work. I am sorry for my grandchildren, and they are such nice
children,--nobody else meets me the way they do. Aksyútka will not go to
anybody from me. 'Granny, granny dear, darling!'" And the old woman
melted with tenderness.

"Of course, he is but a child,--God be with him!" the old woman said
about the boy.

She wanted to lift the bag on her shoulders, when the boy jumped up to
her, and said:

"Let me carry it, granny! I am going that way."

The old woman shook her head and threw the bag on the boy's shoulders.
They walked together down the street. The old woman had forgotten to ask
Avdyéich to pay her for the apple. Avdyéich stood awhile, looking at
them and hearing them talk as they walked along.

When they disappeared from sight, he returned to his room. He found his
glasses on the staircase,--they were not broken,--and he picked up his
awl and again sat down to work. He worked for awhile; he could not find
the holes with the bristle, when he looked up and saw the lampman
lighting the lamps.

"It is evidently time to strike a light," he thought, and he got up and
fixed the lamp and hung it on the hook, and sat down again to work. He
finished a boot: he turned it around and looked at it, and he saw that
it was well done. He put down his tool, swept up the clippings, put away
the bristles and the remnants and the awls, took the lamp and put it on
the table, and fetched the Gospel from the shelf. He wanted to open the
book where he had marked it the day before with a morocco clipping, but
he opened it in another place. And just as he went to open the Gospel,
he thought of his dream of the night before. And just as he thought of
it, it appeared to him as though something were moving and stepping
behind him. He looked around, and, indeed, it looked as though people
were standing in the dark corner, but he could not make out who they
were. And a voice whispered to him:

"Martýn, oh, Martýn, have you not recognized me?"

"Whom?" asked Avdyéich.

"Me," said the voice. "It is I."

And out of the dark corner came Stepánych, and he smiled and vanished
like a cloud and was no more.

"And it is I," said a voice.

And out of the dark corner came the woman with the babe, and the woman
smiled and the child laughed, and they, too, disappeared.

"And it is I," said a voice.

And out came the old woman and the boy with the apple, and both smiled
and vanished.

And joy fell on Avdyéich's heart, and he made the sign of the cross, put
on his glasses, and began to read the Gospel, there where he had opened
it. And at the top of the page he read:

"I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me
drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in."

And at the bottom of the page he read:

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,
ye have done it unto me." (Matt. xxv.)

And Avdyéich understood that his dream had not deceived him, that the
Saviour had really come to him on that day, and that he had received
Him.
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